Always
by Alec Shields
Summary: Based off of the Dramatic Precious CDs & Gluhen eps. Schwarz is reforming again after years apart to face a dark mirror of themselves. HIATUS
1. Always

  
**Always**   
  
Rating: R for violence near the end.   
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation.   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally mentioned   
Song: Always by Saliva   
_italics_ = Song lyrics   
  
***~*~*~*~***  
  
**-- one --**   
  
_I love you   
I hate you   
I can't get around you   
I breathe you   
I taste you   
I can't live without you   
I just can't take any more   
This life of solitude   
I guess that I'm out the door   
And now I'm done with you_   
  
It was suppose to be a day of rest. They were going to have no visitors. There was nothing special planned. Just the three of them staying at home and doing stuff together like a family should. It was perfect for what she had planned.   
  
The message was sent. Her bags were packed. The gun lay hidden in her lap. He was a late riser, so she had plenty of time to take care of everything. There could be no mistakes. He had to die. He was her price for her return into the fold of their former keepers.   
  
She had thought that she could be free of them. She had tried so hard to be free. But these past three years had proven how wrong that was. It wasn't his fault, he tried to give her what she needed, but there was a part of him that would always be locked away from her. As there was a part of her that would always pine away for the promises of Este.   
  
She heard the kitchen floorboards creak as he entered the kitchen, even though his tread was nearly soundless. Sometimes, she thought he allowed her to hear those two boards creak, so she wouldn't be scared from the suddenness of his appearance. Another little action that would have spoken volumes of how much he has changed from when she first saw him, amber eye burning with battle, blood staining that pale skin. A wild, untamable animal that yet relaxed around her enough to be coaxed from the others like him.   
  
Warm, slightly damp fingers brushed the side of her neck, soft lips pressing a quick kiss on top of her head in his customary morning greetings. She tilted her head back, returning the kiss and tasting mint and lemons. He pulled away first with a soft chuckle, moving towards the coffee pot to pour himself some of that vicious brew. She never understood his addiction to the stuff. It was as thick as tar and almost as black, and he usually added a teaspoon of honey though she caught him sometimes sweetening it with molasses.   
  
A cup of coffee poured, he stirred in the honey and snagged an orange from the bowl of fruit on the counter, his movements having lost none of their animalistic grace. His white hair was still damp from his shower, the fine strands clinging against his back and practically glowing against the black tee shirt he wore. She had finally got him to stop cutting himself a year and a half ago, so now his pale skin was bandage less. He was beautiful, but even so, he and those with him were dead. The new Elders decree it to be the price for redemption.   
  
"Jay," she said, his name falling like a lead weight into the still morning air.   
  
The spoon stopped ringing against the sides of his cup, his head turning so she could see the arch of an eyebrow, the black hollow of an eye, the shadows of the morning light hiding his expression from her.   
  
"You never say my name like that unless something is wrong."   
  
"Nothing is wrong."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
It was always hard for her to read his voice, though his moods were easy enough to tell by the colour of his eyes. But the morning light robbed her of that tell tale sign.   
  
"Why would anything be wrong?"   
  
He turned around fully, leaning against the counter, long legs stretched out before him, his over sized coffee mug in his hands, his eyes the colour of old faded gold as he looked steadily at her. The left corner of his mouth twisted up, the scar cutting the full bottom lip giving the twist a mocking air.   
  
"Because something is bothering you about me."   
  
She curled her tiny hand around the gun in her lap, her finger resting on the trigger, her eyes on the man before her. There was a time when she deeply loved him. That she would do anything for him. And she knew he felt the same way about her. But that was when the love was fresh and new in their minds. It had taken it three years, but that love was nothing more than a springtime breeze. Gone from their lives to be replaced by the cold emptiness of winter's snows.   
  
"You don't know anything."   
  
"We've had this argument before. Remember? As I told you then, I will not leave you."   
  
"You don't love me."   
  
Those eyes looked steadily at her, his face closed off to her, his secrets hidden away from her. Something snapped inside of her, her skin feeling tight against the bones of her face, her fingers tightening their grip against the cold metal of the gun. The silence stretched until he looked away, dumping his coffee down the drain and setting his mug aside.   
  
"Is that what you want from me?"   
  
"You told me that you loved me!"   
  
"At one time I did."   
  
"And what? You fell out of love with me? After all you said to me?"   
  
"No."   
  
"No?!"   
  
He looked back at her, white strands tumbling over his forehead, covering his one eye, a ghost of the man he was, staring at her across a snow-covered plain. Full lips turned into a frown, a puff of breath stirring his white hair, his words stilted as if he was forcing them around something big, something secret.   
  
"I do love you, but not as much as you want me to."   
  
"And that is suppose to make me feel better?!"   
  
"There's nothing for you to get hysterical about."   
  
She raised a hand to cover her mouth, watching those antique gold eyes, and that lean, pale face. He looked so distant, so untouchable. So much like the wild animal that she had fallen for, had spent years taming, have given everything up for. How he had defended her from the wolf-lean leader of their pack, of how he had stood in the snow covered in the gore of his kills, holding his hand out to her. That image that she sometimes saw superimposed upon his rare smiles, his soft husky laugh, the tender way he would hold her in his arms, protecting her from the world.   
  
She wondered if she knew him at all. She wondered if she had ever knew him despite their love.   
  
"You are telling me that you don't feel the same for me and you're saying that I do not have the right to be mad about it?! How long have you felt this way?"   
  
He shrugged. "Does it matter? You would just say I am lying in any event."   
  
She slammed her hand onto the table, her voice brittle in her ears. "I want to know the truth! How long?!"   
  
"You know the answer to that."   
  
Silence descended between them. She looked at him, her lips parted as if to question him further, her eyes saying the words that her lips could not speak. He remained motionless, his eyes the colour of bleached gold, alien in their beauty and deadly to behold. Again, she thought of him as a wild wolf, allowing himself to be tamed in exchange for comfort and friendship, but always keeping that one part of him away from her hardest attempts of loving him. In the silence, the slender line of hope inside of her snapped and she turn her gaze away from him.   
  
"I guess. . . I can't live like this anymore." She raised her eyes to his face again, her fingers tightening on the gun in her lap. "I love you but I do not want to be second place to you. I. . . had hoped that you felt the same way. . . I'm sorry. . ."   
  
"It's not your fault."   
  
"No. . . Not yet."   
  
He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows drawn down, his full lips tugging downwards. His thinking face, as she liked to call it. It gave a hint of masculinity to his exotic, almost feminine appearance. It was a look that she found more frightening than the one his face wore in his wildest frenzies. He was no dumb animal this wild creature she accepted into her heart and bed. And him thinking would cause trouble in the end for her and what she had to do.   
  
"Sally. What have you done?"   
  
A low liquid growl from his throat, his bare feet hissing slightly against the floorboards. The light catching the cross he started wearing a year and a half ago, catching and setting his eyes afire. She sobbed softly, her hands clutched around the gun as she brought it up and fired. A crimson spray arching from his side, one bone pale hand going to the wound in surprise. Then he was gone, the human leeching from those eyes leaving the animal in his place.   
  
She pushed away from the table, the chair falling behind her, the gun gripped in both hands. No lady's gun, the cool metal jerking with each shot. Blood flowers bloomed on his chest, his arm, his head, his leg, and still he came. She ejected the used clip and slammed a new one in, backing into the kitchen door, the gun raised to his temple as his fingers closed around the collar of her jacket.   
  
Her lips formed the words 'I love you' even as she pulled the trigger. His head snapped back, his fingers loosing their hold as he dropped to the floor. In the returning silence, she could hear soft sobs and realized they were coming from her own throat. Pressing her hand against her lips to stifle the sobs and heard a sleepy, tiny voice intrude.   
  
"Da?"   
  
Turning, she looked at the small girl standing in the doorway, tiny bow of a mouth pressed into a frown, one hand clutching a fluffy blue blanket the other holding a stuffed dragon. The tiny child did not look at her mother standing against the door, her dark honey brown eyes on the fallen form on the kitchen floor.   
  
"Daddy's sleeping now." She was surprised how calm her voice was despite the tears filling her eyes. "Let him sleep, poppet."   
  
Those eyes were so much like his as they looked up at her then, the tiny face blank before nodding in understanding before looking back at her father. Swallowing back the sobs that still wished to escape her throat, the older woman reached for her daughter.   
  
"Let's go."   
  
Their daughter looked at her, the tiny mouth frowning before the girl shouted 'No', bringing one foot down hard on the floor. The girl pulled from the hands reaching towards her, running deeper into the house.   
  
She looked into the shadows for a long moment, then looked down at his fallen form and spreading pool of crimson. Then nodding her head, she pushed him away and walked out the door. She had a plane to catch and a life to get back to. Taking a breath of the outside air, she looked back one last time.   
  
"I will always love you, Jay."   
  
She did not notice the tear glittering on her cheek as she walked down the steps to the waiting car.   
  



	2. Home Sweet Home

  
  
  
Rating: R for violence and bad language   
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally in the first part   
  
***~*~*~*~***  
  
**-- two --**   
  
"Tcht, what a stupid woman. Didn't even lock the door or cover Farfie up."   
  
"Enough. Get the med kit from the car while I check to make sure he's alive."   
  
"Ja. Ja."   
  
The two voices echoed in the house, drawing the tiny child from her hiding spot towards the kitchen. The long shadows told of the passage of time, as did her stomache. A silent child, she did not complain, waiting for her dada to wake up and fix lunch as he always did. Of her mother, she haven't heard from her at all, not that she ever seen much of the woman outside of mornings and some evenings when she was allowed to stay up. Mother scared her; she was always too noisy and too loud and too demanding. Nothing like her dada who didn't raise his voice at her or demand that she stay away from the mud or learn manners.   
  
The tiny girl peeked around the corner, brown eyes wide as she saw the strange man kneel in the mess around her dada. He had dark hair like he mother and wore a suit like her, but he wasn't as loud nor was he as angry looking. She took a step from behind the doorway, head tilted to the side like a curious bird's.   
  
The man turned, the light catching on his glasses and she paused, frozen by the sunlight's glare. The man's face was imposing, his strong jaw taunt underneath tanned skin, his lips pressed together in a frown. He nodded once at the girl, pushing his glasses up into place, leaving a smear of sticky brown on his face.   
  
Curiosity getting the better of her, she took a step forward, golden brown eyes studying the man before her then she dropped her gaze at the pale form laying against the floor. One tiny stocking foot touched the black look pool the man knelt in, her eyes raised again as if to question why he was there getting his clothing stained. If he was at all like mother, the man would be yelling by now or rushing to wash out the stains and complaining it was all dada's fault.   
  
"It's alright," the man said, his deep voice soothing, calm. "Farfarello has made worse messes that I've had to clean up."   
  
She titled her head to the other side, her lips forming the word. "Faw faw 'ello?"   
  
"Farfarello," the man repeated, grabbing a handful of her dada's hair and using it to pull his head from the floor, skin parting from the sticky floor with the sound like that of a wet vacuum cleaner. Her dada muttering something, one eye blinking open before closing shut, his left hand snagging on the other man's wrist.   
  
"Da was sleeping," she stated calmly, mouth pressed in a tiny frown.   
  
"Heh, your daddy was hurt."   
  
That second voice caused her to start, her tiny form shying away from the new person. His voice wasn't as calm as the kneeling man's; she could taste the mixture of anger and frustration hidden underneath the nasal twang. She looked up and up, eyes widening at the bright orange-red hair falling wildly around his face. His eyes were blue like the blue dye on her mother's fine plates, and she was reminded of the fox her dada once took care of.   
  
"Da huwt?" She scrunched her nose at the concept. She could accept him being hurt even though he was the most powerful man she knew. "Get bettew?"   
  
"He will. Your dad is a tough bastard and it would take more than a couple of shots to keep him down."   
  
"Schuldig, don't swear in front of the baby."   
  
She stamped a tiny foot. "Not baba! Big giwl now!"   
  
Both adults looked down at her, the redhead with a broad smirk, and the dark hair man with a frown. Sighing faintly, the dark haired man brushed sticky hair from her dad's face, one finger prodding at a large discolouration on her dada's forehead above his right eye.   
  
"Why are you always throwing yourself in the path of bullets?" he murmured then looked at the girl again. "What is your name?"   
  
"Deiwdwe Nyx," she replied, "An' I'm not a baba! 'M two an' a half!"   
  
"Sorrowful compassion and night, how appropriate. Being such a big girl, I bet you can help Schuldig with cleaning up the kitchen while I bandage up Farfarello."   
  
She nibbled on her lip for a moment then nodded. The dark haired man stood, yanking her dada up by the arm and slinging him over his shoulder. Dada muttered a weak protest at the treatment but didn't fight the other adult at all. Schuldig gave the dark haired man a white shiny box then grinned down at her.   
  
She blinked up for a moment, then told him, "I have shoes wit smiles on tem."   
  
His grin faltered.   
  
"You don look like tem at all, so why you Shoe-dick?"   
  
He coughed, his face turning red then squatted down so they can look at each other without her getting a kink in her neck. Though why a kink would want with her neck had been a puzzle to her though her mother got them all the time much to her dada's amusement. Showing a gentle patience that was at odd with his nervous movements, he explained that the name was German and tried to teach her how to say it right. The big word did not fit in her mouth properly so he told her to call him Schu until she can say his full name. Then he nudged her to show him where the cleaners and mop and bucket were, and let her push the mop around on the floor through the sticky mess until he took over and let her ride on his shoulders as he mopped.   
  
Deirdre liked this funny man with the apple-scented hair and the horrible singing voice. She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulders, yawning and snuggling closer. Her eyes popped open a second lately, her tiny frame bolting wide awake as her dada entered the room, followed by the dark haired man.   
  
"Must you damage her hearing, Schu?"   
  
"Tcht, you wouldn't know any music if it bit you on the ass."   
  
"Schuldig, Farfarello, we are on a time limit. Please restrain yourselves until after the trip."   
  
"Twip? Dada goin' bye?"   
  
"And you're coming with me, me poppet."   
  
Her dada's hands plucked her from Schuldig's back and settled her on his own shoulder. He smelt of fresh soap and his long hair was now trimmed into short soft spikes that she had to touch with her tiny hand. There was a large bandage covering the spot over his right eye, bandages around his upper left arm and probably more hidden by the clothing he wore. She looked gravely at him, at the serious expression then nodded once, hugging him and nestling herself against his big chest.   
  
"Me go too. We go Japan?"   
  
"Aye."   
  
"Viwit kitties?"   
  
"Aye."   
  
Schuldig laughed, dumping the red stained water down the drain and putting away the mop and bucket. Bright blue eyes looked over at the man in the suit, mouth curving up into a grin as he lit a thin cigarette.   
  
"Well, at least someone knows Braddum's plans this time. Who knows, maybe it won't be the end of the world like it was last time, ja?"   
  
Deirdre wondered why that caused her father to laugh, deep and quiet in his throat. It didn't sound funny to her. It was probably something only a big girl of three would understand so she snuggled against her dada and let him pack their things.   
  



	3. Life in a Northern Town

  
  
  
Rating: R for violence and bad language   
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally in the first part   
_italics_ = hand signals; thoughts   
// taking // = telepathy   
  
***~*~*~*~***  
  
**-- three --**   
  
His fingers clattered lightly on the keyboard, the glow of the thin screen hollowing out the traces of baby fat clinging to his cheeks and aging him beyond his years. The teen paused in the middle of his typing, looking out the dark window of the car, looking at the black eyed ghost of his self reflected back at him. Outside, buildings flew by, children blocks of mismatched heights and colours; some of the blocks alight while others were dark.   
  
A frown touched his lips, watching with a vague yearning to by like the inhabitants of those blocks. Of being normal with normal concerns of living life without fear or worry save for the more mundane fears. None of them had to worry of fighting a dark mirror of themselves, of killing to survive, of the soul weary tiredness of the darkness that was a part of living. They did not have to worry about having a power- - Gift he had heard Farfarello call it- - that could rival a nuclear explosion. They did not have to keep such a power contained; they did not have to suppress their emotions or risk loosing a force that could tear apart a building. And for that he mistrusted them.   
  
He could easily hate most normal people but for three people. They had token him from the miserably cold streets of Tokyo, they had nurtured his fifthly, starved body and mind, and had taught him the joys of a power that could also be a terrible burden. Those three that played such odd roles in his life despite of how the world might have viewed them. Crawford, calm, controlled, always making sure they stayed true to their goal, and also filling the place of a stern father-figure, quick to correct and rare of praises. Schuldig, hyper, intense, always smirking like he held the secret of the world behind his lips, he was an older brother to the young Japanese boy, showing him to have fun, to relax and to live. Then Farfarello, lean, sardonic, a sharp mind hidden behind the façade of a raving lunatic, he was like an older friend, his fractured mind twisted enough to logically work it's way through all sorts of legal and moral twists, able to master any weapon or fighting style with an ease that made the teen feel inadequate until the Irishman took him under his wing and showed him how everything had a pattern and how to tear that pattern apart.   
  
Together the four of them formed a team of unusual strengths and skills, each one strengths boosting the other's weaknesses. They had commanded the best prices, and were the darlings in a world of cutthroats and lunatics hidden under the still surface most people lived in. They were also a highly dysfunctional family. He could remember how Crawford would spend hours in the kitchen, making homemade chicken soup for his spells of illness. Of how Schuldig had snuck him out to watch movies and get stuffed on theater foods, junk foods, and stay up laughing over old soap operas and B movies. Of how Farfarello had spent hours with him over books, teaching him with patience that most would never believe, a knife in one hand used to point at something of interest, his lips curling in a sardonic smirk at the histories and religions he was teaching. There were even games that they played, though he now knew them to be lessons as well, of stalking quietly, of hunting others at night, of opening doors and cracking codes, a hundred and one games all to teach him how to survive in their world. Then one day they gifted him with his first computer, a battered thing rescued from a house marked for destruction.   
  
He shook those memories from his head, bending his head over his laptop and trying to concentrate on his task, but his fingers remained stilled, eyes looking at the numbers scrolling down the screen without seeing. The four of them had stayed together for a long time. He had thought that nothing could break them apart. But then their plans went astray; they became hunted by those they set up for a fall and then Farfarello left. The cracks that they were always able to repair could not stand up to that and the rest of them drifted apart. He lost contact with Crawford and Schuldig, and it was only through a chance encounter with Takatori Mamoru that he learnt of Weiß continual survival.   
  
Crawford once told them as they were going to 'bodyguard' Takatori, that the grandfather was completely cracked, the sons cracking, but they might have a grandson that would prove to be useful. Mamoru still has some of his youthful idealism left but it was slowly being destroyed by the manipulations of the boy's grandfather. He had played on that idealism, proving himself to be trustworthy and impartial, drawing upon his memories to say what needed to be said. The older boy had fallen for that trick, and now, he was speeding through the quiet Swiss night, heading for Germany as the unknown backup for two men that know nothing about Este or Eptitaph except a few names and dates. He knew; no one growing up among Este assassins would be too stupid not to catch rumours about it, but not enough to give any accurate information. Crawford might know, but he did not have any way of asking him.   
  
So he had to find information the hard way. Computer hacking, industrial sabotage, breaking and entering, dull work for someone who killed for most of his young life. A refreshing change but he wanted to do more. Eyes narrowing at the screen, he shut the program down and opened a different file. This was a private project he started on, having heard it mentioned during the mad rush through those mountains after their Irish team member. The Schwarz Protocol. Some clever person or people in Este ranks had taken all the data of the four of them, distilled it, then implanted it in several test subjects. The results were fascinating.   
  
He re-read the files like someone re-reading a favorite old book, ignoring his surrounds and imagining what he was reading. But as he read, he felt his muscles twitch reflexively, as if he was in a crowded room being stared at by hundreds of people. He tried to shrug it off with a twitch of his shoulders, leaning more firmly back into the soft seat of the compartment. He took this train because it would not be so crowded and that he could have a compartment by himself. There was no one in the room, nor did he hear any footsteps outside in the hall. Yet the feeling persisted.   
  
Sighing about his over stretched nerves, he raised his head to confirm what he knew then froze, eyes widening underneath the soft fall of his bangs. He froze, hands gripping his laptop, mouth going dry. Like a ghost called by his thoughts, a pale ivory and gold figure sat across from him, scarred lips turning upwards in a familiar smirk. He was dressed in white leather from head to foot, the heavy boots scuffed along the toes, soft fingerless gloves a shade lighter than the skin of his fingers, a cross glinting on a black cord around his throat. The apparition tilted its head to the side, the antique gold eyes glinting like the cross and earrings, the hands tracing signs in the still air.   
  
He frowned for a moment, wondering if his mind brought on this vision, remembering how they devised hand signals for when Schuldig couldn't link the four of them together. And he wondered why this vision did not speak instead trace the signs over and over again. He shook off his musings, watching the hands flash their message. _Wait_ followed quickly by _We are coming, stay in one place, we'll find you_. He frowned at that, glancing up at those pale yellow eyes.   
  
"You are not a trick of my mind," the teen stated, feeling something stir in his blood.   
  
_No,_ the hands flashed. _Will explain later._   
  
"When we meet?"   
  
_Yes, we are at the next stop._   
  
"I see. Why there?"   
  
_Oracle says that staying on would be misfortunate._   
  
He closed his eyes at the familiar phrase, holding back the excitement of seeing them again, of working together again. Opening them again, he smiled, the muscles in his face feeling strange and stiff as he did so.   
  
"I'd be looking forward to it, Farfarello."   
  
The hands stopped their motions as the apparition smiled. It was a dark grin, showing how animal like his teeth were, turning those eyes into golden flames. Then it faded into the seat and was gone.   
  
Nagi's smile didn't fade as he bent over his laptop, not seeing the data before him as he basked in the glow of his excitement and the strange sense of coming home.   
  



	4. A View to a Kill

  
  
  
Rating: R for violence and bad language   
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally in the first part   
_italics_ = hand signals; thoughts   
// taking // = telepathy   
  
***~*~*~*~***  
  
**four**  
  
In some ways it was a homecoming that none of them would ever admit too. In other ways it was a painful reminder of what happened to the unity they had before things fell apart. Changes in the way they dressed and acted showed the trace of time, though the most noticeable sign of time was the tiny girl curled in sleep on the hotel couch, her head resting on the muscular thigh of her father, one tiny hand clutching at the blanket the other pressed against her mouth. The Irishman himself was sharpening a blade, yellow eyes looking over the others from time to time.   
  
He supposed he should say something to explain why he gathered them back together. After the initial greetings and the shuffling arrangement of the four of them, they had fell back into silence, each them no doubt seeing how things had changed yet stayed the same. It was a comfortable silence; one that felt right and familiar that he did not mind it, even though silence from Schuldig was a miracle when he knew the telepath was dying from holding back his questions.   
  
He had answered a few questions in the flight from Ireland to France, and from France in the various vehicles and trains so their trail could not be traced by most. Now they were all tired and worn looking, three sets of eyes looking at him for his knowledge, his visions. How many times had he seen that in their eyes, watching him like three scavenger birds waiting for a feast, hanging on his words.   
  
Even though years separated them, they naturally fell into old patterns. Schuldig teasing and smirking like he knew everything, Nagi falling into thoughtful silence watching them through cold green eyes, Farfarello distant and quiet, not seeming to pay attention until he surprised one with a barbed comment. And him, the leader if there ever was one, keeping his council to himself and dispensing wisdom like it was his life's blood.   
  
They found a place to hole up during this quiet reshuffling into a team again, but the mood of the team had changed. It was no longer a continual throb of action, but a quiet hum of thought, aided by the tiny girl who kept on asking questions. More than once, as they started talking about things from before, did the girl look at them with those solemn eyes and ask what they meant. It was unnerving how she was already picking up words from the different languages being used by the group, most of them unfortunately being swear words courtesy of an uninhibited German.   
  
She had fell asleep in between one word and the next, curling up against her father on the couch and Nagi had found a blanket to cover the child with. Schuldig offered to take her into the bedroom to sleep while they talked, but Farfarello shook his head at that, yellow eyes narrowing at the dagger in his hand before he took out a small whetstone and cloth and oil from bag at his feet. The familiar rasping filled the room as the four of them looked at each other.   
  
_How things changed yet remained the same,_ Crawford thought with a repressed sigh. But this time, this time they were not striving for anarchy. They had outgrown that ideal. Or maybe they never needed it in the first place. All he knew was that it all starts this time with the Schwarz Protocol.   
  
It was, if he remembered rightly, something that used his team's successful career to show other lethals how it was suppose to work. It was a blueprint of them, moving and working and living like a team, or more like a pack of wolves, squabbling amongst themselves but never harming each other and never backing away from their chosen targets. It was just a collection of case files broken down to study how to work together and everything. Nothing that fancy or important yet he could See a green screen with the words flashing on it in his head.   
  
//What are you Seeing, Crawford?//   
  
Opening his eyes, he looked at Schuldig, lips narrowing at the intrusion. //I did not ask you to read my mind.//   
  
//Tcht, as if I need permission, you're sitting in your corner frowning while we are all saying hello after all this time. Can't you relax?//   
  
//We don't have time to relax.//   
  
"You need to relax, there's plenty of time," Schuldig retorted out loud.   
  
"Schuldig, Nagi has a job to complete and we need more information on this Schwarz Protocol."   
  
"They are Delta-class Gifted," Nagi said with a shrug. "Given computer information about us with some added gene splices taken from us. Their main purpose is to guard Epitaph from harm but they are also made to destroy us."   
  
"And you found this out how?" He kept the surprise out of his voice and expression. They would use information on Schwarz like that. The idiots.   
  
"It's something that popped up while I was trying to get at Epitaph's backdoor, Crawford. From what I've found out, there are three of them, a lot more powerful than us and given a lot of our skills. I doubt they would even find us as a challenge when we do face them, they have been made that powerful."   
  
"Power does not equal strength or skill," Farfarello said softly, a mocking twist to his lips. "One can have all the power in the world and still be brought down by a single well-aimed stone."   
  
He answered that mocking grin with a wolf sharp grin of his own, burgundy eyes glittering crimson in the lamp light. They had that lesson show to them in the fall of the temple those years ago. Schwarz being brought down by a group of ideal men, who still see themselves as knights trying to rid the world of evil and denying their own as being a part of that evil. Mere humans with no Gifts and no more than the strength of their wills, facing the cream of Este's Gifted teams and bring them to a stand still.   
  
"How true. I believe we shall find a sharp enough stone to use against them when we finally meet them. But before then, shall we get down to business? Nagi, please outline your mission parameters and we'll see if we can all work together on it."   
  
"It's an easy enough mission. Siberian and Balinese has been spending a few months infiltrating the facility here and have collected enough information for Persia to order a strike to bring down the school and to get all the files pertaining to Epitaph. They don't know what it is, so they are assuming that it is a human in Este's higher levels." Nagi shrugged slightly, glancing over at the American. "And I did not feel the need to correct that assumption just yet. This Japanese Kritiker's Persia is new to his position and still has some thoughts and feelings for those that he worked with so he sent me to back them up just in case they cannot win against the enhanced Gamma-class humans guarding the school."   
  
"That must be the grandson then taking over things," Schuldig said with a snort, blowing a ring of smoke and frowning. "Tcht, why can't that bloodline die? They are all insane-- unlike you, Farfie-jello."   
  
"But of course, Shoe-dick. I at least handle my own enemies and do not treat everyone as if they are nothing more than pawns."   
  
The two men exchanged dark glares then Schuldig shrugged, grinding his cigarette out in an ashtray. Farfarello slipped his dagger into a hidden sheath, antique gold eyes looking down at the child sleeping against him, one moon pale hand touching the curling white-blonde hair. Nagi sighed from his corner, taking out his computer and opening it up, fingers typing out a password to bring up the system files.   
  
"Here. I have a file of information of what they can and cannot do. It's incomplete but- -," Nagi shrugged, fingers clicking against the keys as he brought everything up. "It should tell everyone enough of what we are going up against with that group."   
  
"It would help," he said, looking over his reunited team. So many changes. . . He did not know any more how to use their strengths and weaknesses any more.   
  
"What would also help is knowing how much changes each of us has undergone over this past years. I for one have developed a few extra quirks to my Sight. From the glimpses I have Seen, each of us has grown stronger or developed something more than what Este thinks we have. It may not be powerful but it will be an edge."   
  
"You sound like you have a plan, Braddums," Schuldig replied, arms crossed over his chest, all joking gone from his voice.   
  
"Perhaps I do, Schuldig."   
  
"If that plan has anything to do with raising a demon or me in a dress then forget it. I -so- do not want to repeat ancient history."   
  
"Neither do I."   
  
He glanced at the other three in the room and nodded slowly at the way they all looked at him, three sets of eyes looking back. So many changes but this was still the same. Maybe they can settle this one last score with Este.   
  
"Gentlemen, we have a schedule to keep so let's begin."   
  



	5. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

  
Rating: R for violence and bad language  
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally mentioned in the first part   
italics = hand signals; thoughts   
// taking // = telepathy   
_**A.N:** The titles of these chapters are also song titles as well that I think fit the chapter or I just happen to be listening to at the time. Also, there will be somewhere in the far future some yaoi and hentia. I just don't know when it will happen._   
  
**~*~*~*~***  
  
**five**   
  
Weinrote Academy sat on a high mountaintop in the middle of craggy hills and deep valleys. A small town laid underneath its gaze, one of those kind of places that get called quaint by travelers. That time of night, the town looked deserted by all forms of life, only a few signs sputtered in the gloom. Inside the car, the four members of Schwarz made their final preparations. Schuldig leaning lax in his seat an unlit cigarette in his lips, testing his mental barriers. Crawford's face creased with a frown, his skin tinted blue from the light of the palm sized computer he was looking at, studying plans and Seeing the shape of things to come. Nagi drove without lights, glancing at those in the back seat as he easily steered the car up the winding road. Farfarello finishing the polish on his precious knives, transferring them from an oiled leather carrying case to sheaths on his arms, his belt front and back, boot tops, and legs before turning his attention to his tiny daughter and the black domino mask he fixed on her face and the armored clothing to cover her front and back.   
  
He had refused leaving the tiny girl behind in their hotel room. For one, there was none of the others that wanted to stay behind to watch her. For another, they did not know if they were going to be able to return to that room. They were not on their home territories where they can move around safety any more. Outside of their defined areas, they were easy targets and anyone that was associated with them was even more so. They knew how easily breaking locks were to the people they trained with. They knew that Este would find a way to get hold of the child and use her either to get at the father or all four of them. And they all knew what happened to the young and innocent in Este's hands.   
  
Yet, it was one thing to bring her along and have her in the car, and quite another thing to have her come with them.   
  
Satisfied with his shields, Schuldig took out a lighter and lit his cigarette, bright blue eyes opening slowly. Blowing a smoke ring, he regarded the little girl in her dark clothing and domino mask with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Leaning over, he gave the edge of the mask a tap with his finger, shaking his head. Fast as he was, the tiny pale hand that grabbed at his finger still came as a shock.   
  
"Dun do dat," Deirdre scolded the bigger man, waving a pudgy finger at him. "It fall off den."   
  
Schuldig leaned close and grinned. "You look like a big panda with that mask."   
  
"Uh-uh!"   
  
"Uh-huh. A big panda with a white face and white belly and black patches around your eyes."   
  
"Da, Schu says I'ma pamba!"   
  
Pulling the armor into place, Farfarello glanced at the German, raising a slender eyebrow at him. "He does? He doesn't know what he is talking about."   
  
Deirdre frowned, craning her head to look at her father with large mahogany eyes made darker by the mask around them. Her tiny teeth worried at her lower lip as she glanced back at Schuldig who nodded and smiled behind a curl of smoke. Sticking her tongue out at the grin, she looked down as her father tugged the dark material in place and tied off the lacing. Tapping the hard stuff with her hand, she beamed.   
  
"Dere, I be no pamba!"   
  
"Farf, she looks ridiculous," Schuldig sighed.   
  
"Better looking ridiculous than dead," the Irishman replied, settling a webbing of straps over his shoulders and back and pulling them taunt. Without instructions, Deirdre cheered and clambered into the webbing, settling in place and wrapping tiny arms around her father's neck. Schuldig eyed the webbing impressed, noting how once it was completely in place, Farfarello would be able to fight without any hampering of his movements and without any harm coming to his tiny passenger. From the used look of the straps and the used appearance of the material he pulled onto Deirdre, this was not the first time the Irishman went on a job with the girl. Yet her mind seemed perfectly normal for a two-year-old, save the fact that she was far smarter than most two-year-olds he had met over the years.   
  
//You've done this before,// Schuldig accused the Irishman silently.   
  
//I was not about to leave her behind when I had work.//   
  
//This isn't something that a child should be exposed to. You are so fucking over protective. . .//   
  
//Then tell me what I was suppose to do?// Farfarello locked eyes with Schuldig. //Leave here there with a mother that tried to kill me and was courting Este for a way back in? Leave her here where anyone like us can just rip the door off and take her?//   
  
"I don't know," Schuldig replied, sounding tired. "I don't know. . . so what's with the mask anyways?"   
  
"To protect her secret identity."   
  
Snickering, Schuldig ruffled Farfarello's spiky hair, dodging the lazy swipe the Irishman tried to give him. "I still think she looks like a panda."   
  
"Am not pamba!"   
  
"Enough," Crawford snapped, putting away his palm computer and glancing at the other two. "It's time."   
  
Falling into silence, the dark car glided to a halt in front of the stone structure, tires crunching over gravel before coaxing to a stop. All four doors opened and Schwarz stepped out into the chilly night air. Schuldig let his cigarette drop to the ground, grinding it under his boot heel as he linked up their minds for communication. Crawford waited for the faint echo of sound at the back of his mind before he fell into the lead, heading for a hidden entrance to the Academy's clock tower.   
  
//Nagi, when we hear the first blast, you get into Z-Class and take care of them. Schuldig and Farfarello, you are with me to move on ahead to Epitaph's room. We'll let Weiß take care of themselves.//   
  
Schuldig snorted. //As if I want to spend my time saving angsting florists from themselves.//   
  
//I'd thought that you enjoyed playing with their minds?// Farfarello taunted, falling in step behind the other two, Deirdre fisting her hands in her father's shirt and tugging on it.   
  
//There was a time when it was fun but they become rather a bore,// Schuldig sniffed mentally. //Always going on and on about the same thing. . . you'd think that they have grown out of it by now.//   
  
//Everyone has their price they paid to become what they have become,// Nagi replied, following Crawford down the spiraling stairs.   
  
//Some of us more than others,// Crawford added, frowning at the dim lights around them. //They are nothing like us. They weren't raised and trained like we were. They weren't picked for their Gifts to become killers. They picked their paths for revenge.//   
  
//And thus they commit sin after sin trying for a redemption that they will never find,// Farfarello said softly, his feet soundless on the stairs. //They got their revenge but all that is left for them is the path of blood and deception until even their hearts are killed by their sins.//   
  
//Tcht, you make that sound like a bad thing, Farfie.//   
  
//It can be.//   
  
Crawford reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a stay away from the bottom step and to the side. Nagi moved in the opposite direction, frowning at the lack of lighting as the two of them stepped further into the room. Schuldig smirked to himself, falling behind Nagi, while Farfarello fell behind Crawford, seemly lost in his own world, his daughter snuggling against him.   
  
Around them, the air shifted and shadows within the shadows moved. The four men stopped as one in the center of the room as two of the shadows stepped into the pale light. They were young but with muscles that stretched their dull black uniforms, and superior smirks that stretched their thin lips.   
  
"You're trespassing," the dark haired student said, flexing his muscles. "I'd suggest that you leave."   
  
//Amateurs,// Schuldig said over the mental link, chuckling out loud and taking out a cigarette. The other three chuckled with him, Crawford smirking, Nagi coldly eyeing the two, and Farfarello's eyes glowing gold.   
  
"I don't think that they are listening to us, Rictor," the shorter, light haired one said to his friend, frowning at Schwarz's lack of response to their appearance.   
  
"Oh we heard you," Schuldig replied, lazy blowing smoke through his nose and looking down at the two young men. "But wolves always hear the meaningless braying of puppies."   
  
"Puppies?! We'll show you puppies!"   
  
The two men tensed, scowls on their faces as they crouched down. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Crawford pointed up at the ceiling. The two teens looked up . There was a muffled bang, a loud groan and the tower began collapsing around them.   
  
//See you topside,// Nagi said, vanishing into the swirling smoke.   
  
//Have fun chibi,// Schuldig replied, heading for the two teens in front of them, his movements so fast they were a blur until he smashed a fist in one face and kicked the other in the gut.   
  
Lazily, Farfarello flicked one his knives into his hand and threw it into the dark, a scream answering the throw and sending shadow-clad teens running from the flame lit shadows. //You mean more fun than we're having?//   
  
Crawford dodged a fist and caught a knife wielding figure, flipping it over his head, and twisting the arm until it cracked. //If you call this fun. Superior beings, my ass.//   
  
//Braddums has cracked.// A blurred punch to a jaw and a sweeping kick to the legs, before he caught a girl and flung her into a wall.   
  
//Even more than usual.// Another knife was pulled out, the blade turning red as teens fell into its path.   
  
//The constant chatter between you two is becoming annoying.// Ribs broke underneath a fist, a jaw shattering and another body flew over his head to land in a twisted ruin.   
  
The tower shuddered again and more dust and bits of the upper floors fell around them. The remaining group of people surrounding them decided to live and headed for freedom. Being Schwarz, they made sure that none of them escaped to cause them problems later. Then wiping knives clean, straightening suits and lighting a new cigarette, they moved through the doors to the next room.   
  
//Weiß set up more than one set of bombs,// Nagi told the others, his mental voice thin. //And Siberian is sounding more and more like Farf everyday.//   
  
//Tcht, a guy gets a reputation and everyone has to hog in on it,// Schuldig snorted.   
  
//Should I be flattered or annoyed that he is being me?// Farfarello asked, putting away most of his blades.   
  
//I wouldn't be. Bad enough everyone assumes we are dead,// Crawford snorted, slamming a fist into a sensor eye and triggering another set of doors open. //Of course, since we are suppose to be dead, it makes it so much easier to surprise everyone.//   
  
Beyond the last two doors were three pillars crawling with lights. Little flashes of light snaked from one pillar to another, the air filled with a humming sound like the stirring of bees. The three men paused, Schuldig and Farfarello fanning out to Crawford's sides, letting the older man take charge.   
  
"You are not suppose to be here," a lackluster mechanical voice said as they went down the three steps to the insulated ground the computers were built on.   
  
"Yet here we are," Crawford replied, taking out a small disk and tossing it to Schuldig. The telepath grinned and moved to the base of the machine, opening the small interface at the foot of it, inserting the disk, and calling up programs to save.   
  
"You were reported dead in Switzerland, Ireland, America and Germany," a slightly different voice stated.   
  
"Gee, all those places? We should be touched," Schuldig replied, taking out the disk, closing it up into its case and tossing it back to Crawford.   
  
"Warning, further action will result in your elimination," the third voice snapped, the lights on the three panels turning red.   
  
"There is no one left besides ourselves and you, and I doubt you will be here much longer," Farfarello said lightly, taking out from underneath his vest a flat package of gray clay and some wires. He tossed the two at Schuldig, who caught it and set up the explosives, whistling.   
  
Another explosion rocked the tower, sending more debris down. Nodding at the computers, Crawford turned and headed out the small service door in the far wall. Alarms were going off, but nothing moved save for Farfarello and Schuldig, the Irishman setting the clock on the bomb while Schuldig jammed the safety measures closed. The two followed Crawford out the side door, jamming it shut behind them and following the dark tunnel on its contorted path.   
  
"Is our little panda still with us?" Schuldig asked after a minute.   
  
"Am not a pamba!"   
  
He chuckled and lit a new cigarette, the brief flash of light showing his dust covered smile. "Are too."   
  
"Are not!"   
  
"Don't you have better things to do than to tease two year olds?" Nagi asked, reappearing and stumbled against the German. "Or have you finally met you mental match?"   
  
"I am wounded to the quick! Alas, I shall now die alone and unloved!" Schuldig threw himself at Farfarello, draping himself over the Irishman's side and causing Deirdre to giggle and slap at his arm.   
  
"One out of two isn't bad," Farfarello said, raising a knife and making stabbing motions at the German.   
  
"Amateurs," Crawford snorted, glancing back at the four of them before taking out his gun and shooting off the lock of the door. Stepping outside, he headed for their car, explosions rocking the night air and the sound of a vehicle escaping the inferno and down the twisting road.   
  
"Are not! Schuldig crowed, hopping ahead of Farfarello and making a dive towards the immaculate American.   
  
"Just like old times, aye Nagi?" Farfarello said softly, smirking as Crawford dodged the German without looking around.   
  
"Hai, just like old times," Nagi said, wincing at the German curses.   
  
"Da, what does sho-bit mean?"   
  
Both Farfarello and Nagi exchanged glances then sighed. "I'll tell you when you're a big girl of five."   
  
"Otay!"   
  



	6. Here Comes the Rain Again

  
Rating: R for violence and bad language  
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally mentioned in the first part   
italics = hand signals; thoughts   
// taking // = telepathy   
_**A.N:** A lot of talking and maybe a surprise or two. Other than that, this chapter is mainly just to move Schwarz from point A to point B. Hopefully there will be a lot more movement in the next installation. _  
  
**~*~*~*~***  
  
**six**   
  
Tokyo underneath a raining sky glittered like a giantess' jewelry box. Buildings stood in rows of corroded silver and dull gray forming tiaras and crowns growing into ruin with age, the lights flickering along their lengths like gemstones; shivering emeralds, fiery diamonds, tranquil sapphires, and smoldering rubies. The tarred roads were strands of steel, dotted with white pearls and yellow diamonds. The parks laid like uncut emeralds, the ponds and lakes and sea were chucks of dull silver and blue-gray turqiouse. The moving clusters of umbrellas were fresh water pearls, lumpy and dull among the rest of the glittering gems. Tokyo under a raining sky always looked so peaceful, but it was nothing more than a fairy tale, one that disapears once the sun came out to play. All the rain did was make the sins gleam under the sun.   
  
The five of them came to Tokyo on separate flights, still cautious after all these years. Takatori might have only ruled for a day but there were many men who remembered the band of gaijin that served as his bodyguards. Early morning saw an American businessman with briefcase in hand, his Japanese the formal, stiff version taught at business college. Mid-morning saw a young Japanese adult carrying an over night bag and muttering in the broken Japanese of a first generation American. Noon saw a German redhead carrying a backpack and a German to Japanese dictionary in hand, flirting with a pretty passport checker until his on line girlfriend showed up. The afternoon saw a tour group from Britain go by, one of the members a tall, scarred man carrying a small daughter in one arm and a plushy blanket in the other.   
  
Hours passed. The sky darkened and more lights came on, gleaming like polished stones set against velvet. The five of them ended up in the same cafe down a street lined with brightly colored shops lining both sides of the streets. Caution had them sitting in separate places among the regulars of the cafe, though they still communicated silently with each other. It was an old ploy and one they used shamelessly in many places. There were few who would connect together the Japanese teen sitting at the counter drinking tea, the American businessman pouring over files and typing in a notebook computer while sipping tepid coffee, the redhead gaijin flirting with a pretty college girl, and the white gaijin keeping his daughter from making too large a mess as she chewed on pocky and rice balls as he nursed a cup of tea.   
  
//What do we know about Koua Academy?// Crawford asked over their link. //Any signs of Este members near the shop?//   
  
//There are two across from the store front, wearing their masks and uniforms,// Farfarello replied, nibbling on a hang nail.   
  
//There are three more in casual clothing in the arcade,// Nagi added, adding a twist of lemon to his tea. //Koua Academy is where they transfered Epitaph's mainframe. I suppose they are trying to recreate Rosenkreuz here but molded along the more disciplined regiments that the Japanese are used to. Or maybe it's because Takatori is here and the family wants their country to become the home base for Este.//   
  
//Or maybe they just like to have everyone under their thumbs, ja?// Schuldig leaned forward and said something in the girl's ear causing her to blush and giggle, ducking her head. //We spotted two in the shop here. Tcht, they stand out like sore toes.//   
  
//We?//   
  
Glancing up, Farfarello smiled wistfully at the two before turning his attention to fixing Deirdre's hair into a pony tail. To anyone watching, he gave the appearance at someone that recently lost his wife and the two lovers reminded him of happier times. //Schuldig has been holding out on us.//   
  
//Have not.//   
  
//Have too.//   
  
//Not.//   
  
//Too.//   
  
//Can we just leave them here?// Nagi asked, all but turning big watery eyes on Crawford. //Please? They are such children.//   
  
Crawford turned his laugh into a cough, hiding his twitching lips behind the rim of his coffee cup. Years apart, yet they still were close enough to tease even at a time like this. He couldn't help it as he joined in. //I doubt that we would be able to loose them at all. They would probably track us down, arguing over which one of them annoyed us the most and whine when they are not arguing.//   
  
//Farfie, they are being mean!//   
  
//You started it Schu!//   
  
The telepath blew the psychopath a raspberry over the mental link, laughing as he retreated behind his mental barriers. Farfarello gave him a snort then pointedly ignored him in favor of cleaning up after Deirdre. Crawford sighed, closed his notebook, and started putting his gear away.   
  
//Now, children, behave.//   
  
//Does that mean you're going to spank us if we don't?//   
  
//I would but I think you have someone that would object most strongly if I spanked you before she got to do so.//   
  
Nagi stirred his tea and rolled his eyes. //You three need your heads exaimed. To return to the subject at hand. . . Persia has ordered a cease in investigating the Academy.//   
  
//Has he given a reason?//   
  
There was a pause then a mental shrug. //Maybe because that one Weiß member died?//   
  
Schuldig leaned over the table to take a nibble of his date's sundae, blue eyes narrowed in gallows's humor. //Maybe because Takatori doesn't like spending his money and his personal killers on a wasted effort like that place.//   
  
//. . . You really don't like that family, do you?//   
  
//Remember chibi, they don't care about people, well most of them don't. Otherwise they would have shut that place down a long time ago. They want Epitaph's knowledge. Weiß is expendable so long as they have new recruits to brainwash.//   
  
//I doubt that Abbyssissan would back off from anything. And we all know that the Academy has not forgotten Weiß,// Farfarello added.   
  
//There is no reason why they would.// Crawford snapped his briefcase closed and went to pay his tab. //First we have to take care of the watchers. Not all of them but enough to make them hesitate later on.//   
  
//I'd rather get them all.// Farfarello's mental voice was cold, burning across their mental link. //Send them a message and draw their attention from more important matters.//   
  
//You want to kill Sally.// Brad's tone was neutral.   
  
//Do you blame me?//   
  
//You'll have your chance. Patience, Berserker.//   
  
Farfarello settled back in his seat, watching Deirdre as she grabbed a handful of napkins and tried to wipe her face off. //Berserkers are not known for their patience.//   
  
//So what's the plan?// Nagi interrupted, sipping his tea.   
  
Crawford gathered his change together, glancing around the cafe before heading to the door. //Take out all of the watchers. Do not leave a trace of them behind that Este can read as to what really happened. Once that is done, rendevous at our safe house for more planning. And Schuldig, if you feel the need to involve Aya Fujimiya to our meetings, at least have the decency to not make it into a date.//   
  
There was a muttering of agreements over the link as he left the cafe. Outside the American businessman smiled thinly to himself, and headed to get himself a taxi, ignoring the rain as it fell, making gray splotches on his white suit.   



	7. The Passenger

  
Rating: R for violence and bad language  
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ^^;   
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations.   
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally, Schuldig x Aya-chan, mentioning of Farfarello x Aya   
italics = hand signals; thoughts   
// taking // = telepathy   
  
**~*~*~*~***  
  
**seven**  
  
Aya never thought that her life would turned out this way.   
  
Growing up as the cherished youngest child of a well-to-do family, she had dreamed of going to school and raising a family. She thought of having a caring husband, someone like her father, though maybe less stern. She had thought of being a successful working woman, helping others and coming home to her loving family. Then that dream was shattered.   
  
She remembered laughing in the rain. Of her brother, laughing with her, the present he'd bought for her sixteenth birthday in her bag. She remembered going into their home and finding their parents dead. She remembered Ran pushing her outside, the sound of a car squealing to life, then nothing.   
  
She had never been so scared in her life. Frozen, trapped inside herself, unable to make her body respond to her wishes, she screamed for endless hours inside the darkness of her mind. She clawed at her unresponding senses and limbs, tried to even feel air pushing through her lungs or the beating of her heart.   
  
Nothing worked. She thought herself dead and this her hell when she was no longer alone. A stranger's voice, a tall form with green hair and smirking lips appeared in her personal darkness, shook his head, and drawled that she was being difficult.   
  
Her. Difficult! As if she wanted to be stuck in her own skull the way she was!   
  
She had struck out at that smiling face, only to have her hand go through his form. Then she realized that she could see herself and see other things as well, like gossamer strands of spider silk caught in time. The smirking man had sat down on a chair that wasn't there before and started talking.   
  
About how this wasn't her fault. About how to gradually wake herself up and get back into the real world. About how everything she was seeing was nothing more than her subconscious mind making sense of something she was born with but never had to use until now. And since he was the only person that could sense her, he had the task to lead her back through teaching her control.   
  
She hated him at first. That always superior grin. That annoying laugh. The way he knew what she was thinking before she even could form it into thoughts. Then she saw how he used his smile and his laugh to keep himself from showing his uncertainty. That under all the masks he was just a young man that was just as scared as she was, even though it wasn't exactly for the same reasons.   
  
From hate to understanding. From understanding to liking. From liking to loving. She had grown during that time inside her head. Learning how to feel again and how to hear again. Being taught by that smirking young man, teasing and bickering with him, laughing and confessing with him, learning everything that she could about him and her brother. It was a shock when she was able to hear again, listening to her brother whisper to her his perceived sins, knowing that she was being taught by one of his most hated enemies.   
  
When she finally won her freedom, she did not expect to see the German again. Yet she did, in her dreams, Schuldig confessing that he was lonely after all the time spent talking to her. They talked nearly every night, then one day she saw him in the waking world, red hair instead of green, blue eyes instead of gold. They shared a shake and he told her that they were leaving Japan for a while. He smiled that same smile of his before giving her a gentle kiss of farewell.   
  
Her brother left soon after that. She wasn't suppose to know he was still alive, but he had contacted her through several channels, making sure she was safe and she was happy. She had put on a show of being happy, even though she missed Ran terribly and wanted nothing more than for him to be her brother again. She had bought him some presents and gave them to Birman to give to Ran, and that was the last she saw of the secretary and her brother.   
  
She continued to work at the shop and go to school, sometimes wondering if they were alive or dead in unmarked graves. Then one day Schuldig appeared again for a long talk, looking more settled, less jumpy. They talked and he gave her another kiss before leaving again. For the past year he had been doing that, showing up unexpectantly, smiling and talking about what has been happening, then leaving again with a kiss. When he actually called her to meet him at the airport, she was both elated and worried. Her worry grew when Schuldig took her to a modest house outside of Juuban where she met for the first time the other members of Schwarz.   
  
Crawford had gave her a look then sighed, dumping his briefcase and bag by the door and heading out again. Nagi smiled faintly, glanced at Schuldig, then disappeared up the stairs. And Farfarello brushed past her like she wasn't there, the little girl in his arms waving at her, chattering excitably in mangled English. Nagi had appeared again, telling her that there should be some food in the cupboards, leaving in a blur of motion. Schuldig then left her, saying that he had to get his working clothes on. She blinked after him, feeling useless and frail and wondering if she made the right decision to come with him to this place.   
  
"Why are you here?"   
  
She blinked at the soft voice echoing her thoughts, turning to look up into the golden eyes of the Irishman. She took a step back, feeling a sudden chill crawl down her spine. In her mind's eye, she saw him as a hulking brute, more muscles than brains, but the reality was far, far different. Dangerous and silent, with unreadable features and wolf-yellow eyes, he commanded more attention than her wildest dreams.   
  
"Well?"   
  
"Schuldig brought me. . ." she began to say, but he shook his head once, the cross around his neck catching the light. Her eyes narrowed at him, feeling the fear turn into anger. "He did bring me here!"   
  
"If you didn't want to come, you would have told him to drop you off somewhere safe," Farfarello replied, leaning over her, yellow eyes narrowing. "You must have a reason for why you are here."   
  
"I want. . ." she started to say then stopped, eyes drawn to the cross. Without thinking, she grabbed the necklace, jerking it fully from under his shirt and staring at the inscription on it. "Where did you get this?"   
  
His cool fingers closed around her wrist, his grip tightening enough to grind her bones together. "Let go." Dead, that was his voice, dead of even a hint of anger or annoyance.   
  
She hung on, looking up at him, ignoring the spreading numbness in her hand. "Not until you tell me where you got it."   
  
He watched her face for a moment, then let go, the corners of his mouth twisting, the scar giving his smirk a malicious air. Her fingers opened, letting the cross swing free on its chain, the light catching the engraving that she knew like the back of her hand. She had it put there long time ago.   
  
_'To my loving nii-chan - - Always.'_   
  
"He gave it to me."   
  
"He gave it to you?" She looked up him, trying to read his expressionless face. "How? Why?"   
  
"Don't forget where and when, liebe," Schuldig said, coming down the stairs dressed in a yellow shirt and black pants.   
  
"Ask your brother if you want to know. Ready, Schuldig?"   
  
Aya looked from one man to the other, hating being talked around. She wanted to know! Her brother was her only family and she felt just as responsible for him as he felt for her. She opened her mouth to demand what was going on when Schuldig grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a kiss.   
  
//Don't ask him, liebe,// he said into her mind. //Farfie and your brother are. . . complicated.//   
  
//What? Schuldig, either you tell me or I'll, umm, do something that you will regret.//   
  
He laughed in her mind, pulling back from the kiss and giving her that smirk of his. //You'll have to come up with a better threat than that, liebe. Just leave it for now, please? Farfarello may have become a family man but he still hasn't lost his edge. And I certainly don't want to be on the receiving end of it.//   
  
She sighed and nodded once, pouting up at Schuldig. //Fine. I will right now but I demand to have it explained to me soon.//   
  
"Okay, okay," Schuldig replied with a chuckle, glancing over at Farfarello. "I'm ready. You leaving your panda behind?"   
  
"I think I can trust your girlfriend to keep an eye on her," Farfarello replied, looking at Aya, ancient gold eyes glittering with an unreadable emotion. "Can't I?"   
  
She nodded, swallowing heavily as the Irishman turned on his heel and went out the door. Schuldig gave her a quick hug and followed him, leaving her alone in the bright, non-script kitchen, listening to the rain hit the window. Sighing to herself that she would never understand men, she went to find Dierdre.   



	8. The Memory Remains

  
Rating: R for violence and bad language  
Disclaimers: I don't own Weiß or Schwarz, I just like to drool over them. I am not writing this for profit, but rather as a bit of fan appreciation. The only character here I do own in the chibi Farf ;  
Warnings: Umm, there are probably some, this fiction takes place a while after the Dramatic Precious series and uses some information from the Schwarz dramas. Possible AU since the only copy I have of the DP series is some half-baked translations. This part is full of **-spoilers-** for ep. 8 of the show.  
Pairing: Farfarello x Sally, Schuldig x Aya-chan, mentioning of Farfarello x Aya.  
_italics_ hand signals; thoughts  
/ taking / telepathy 

**-+-+-+-+-+  
****- the memory remains -**

Aya almost killed Yohji.

The built up frustration, coupled with Persia's growing demands for resolution and his own thoughts were grinding away at the ice of his control, letting his temper break free. The wrongness of Koua Academy needed to be set to rights, even if he had to work outside Persia's direct control in order to do it. If Persia had any of Omi left inside of him, he would understand and give them the time they needed.

That is, if Yohji would actually do more than ruin their timetable by making eyes at all the pretty teachers

He had slammed the bleached blond harder against the wall than he intended when he did finally managed to get Yohji to meet with him. Yohji barely flinched, his green eyes speaking volumes before he closed them, dipping his head. Aya could feel his teeth grind together, frustration warring with his rusty concern. Something was wrong with Yohji, something more than the blond's recent 'illness'.

His fingers gripped Yohji's shoulder harder, his voice sounding sharp even to his own ears. "Why didn't you contact us yesterday?"

"Sorry." Yohji sounded tired.

His fingers loosen their grip, though his voice remained sharp. Instead of concern, he heard himself snap back, "And before that too!"

Yohji was at least responding to the anger, his spine straightening and color returning to his cheeks. It was no secret that Yohji disliked his uptightness while he disliked Yohji's easy-going manners. They had always snipped at each other about it, but for the most part, he and Yohji got along. But that had changed as Aya withdrew more into himself and Yohji fell into his own bitter memories.

"If you got time to contact people, you can do it," Yohji replied, his voice once again smooth. He brushed Aya's hand off his shoulder, looking up at him. "I'll be waiting for you too. So hurry up and finish."

Aya turned to face the sunset, not wanting to read the message in those damnable green eyes. "Tell me about her."

"Tsujii Mayumi. She's been with the school since it's founding. Other than that her past is pretty clean."

"Second hand information cannot be trusted."

"You're harsh, you Kritiker people." Aya glanced back at Yohji, watching the blond smile faintly at his own words. "She's got a house outside the campus, it seems."

"That's . . ." Aya begun to say but Yohji guessed his question.

"Let's just say I know that first hand."

Aya stared at Yohji, feeling the sudden chill settling in his skin at those words. He was doing it to himself again. Yohji was placing his heart on his sleeve for anyone to trample it, leaving him more shattered than before Asuka's death. He wanted to tell Yohji not to do this to himself but the words would not form. Business always came before the sanity of his team, even when he could feel the daggers of regret digging into his brain.

"I'll try to find out where the school is getting it's funding," he said, ground out between his teeth and around the concern he had. "Continue to stay in touch."

"You sound just like Persia," Yohji commented dryly, pushing off the wall.

"If you don't like it. . . "

"I'm working on the case," Yohji replied with a small grin, head down as he headed for the door.

Aya turned around fully to look at him, now that it was safe enough to do so. "Tell me what you find out."

Yohji waved a hand in his direction, back to his normal flippant self in actions if not in spirit. "See ya."

The words he was fighting against finally ground themselves out, sounding harsh even to his ears. "Yohji, what is wrong with you?"

It looked for a moment like Yohji would tell him, stopping with a hand on the door and shoulders slumping. Then the blond straightened, continuing on his way down the stairs. Aya watched him go, gritting his teeth against the frustration rising inside. He couldn't even scream out the emotions at the blond, not around here where he was just the history teacher Aya Fujimiya.

Turning on his heel, he went to the edge of the building to look down, trying to gain the tattered remains of his control. He was prevented from doing that when he heard someone call out to him in a breathless voice.

"Fujimiya-sensei. . . !"

He schooled his features into a pleasant smile and turned again. It was that hyper teacher Asami, the one that was becoming like his shadow any more. He briefly wondered why him, why did he attract such bubbling personalities before he raised a hand in greeting.

"Yes, Asami-sensei?"

She fidgeted for a moment then looked up at him, a light blush appearing on her cheeks. "I was wondering. . . if you would help me with the computer system?"

"Aa, it locked you out again?"

She giggled and nodded. "I'm so helpless. . ."

Aya headed for the stairs down. Maybe he needed a distraction from his own worries right now. "Let's see if we can get it to cooperate and let you back in."

It took him a few minutes to finally get the computer to let her back in. Listening to her chatter on about the cultural festival she was planning, he reviewed the information they had gathered since the withdrawal order. It wasn't enough to prove who or what was behind the school, but Aya had a feeling he knew who was behind it. Instinct, something that he was used to denying, was all but screaming the name in his mind.

Jumping up from her seat and running to the printer, Asami smiled widely at him, hugging the papers to her chest. Giving her a smile he didn't feel inside, he listened to her patiently. She was so happy and bubbling over with glee at the upcoming festival that he could think of her like she was his sister, smiling at him with all the hope and light of the world in her eyes. It was enough to make him want to scream at her, to rage at his imposed loneness.

She danced in place, chattering on about the festival, his simple, distracted replies not curbing her enthusiasm for her obsession. He vaguely wondered over how he was going to cut their talk short when she asked him about meeting tomorrow to shop. He blinked at her in surprise, trying to formulate which way to go on the subject as she stumbled over her words, flushing like a student with a crush.

Going shopping had some merits; he wouldn't be stuck watching Yohji destroy himself with drink, seeing Ken babble to himself, and trying to convince Sena to find a different line of work. He could also learn more about her and the school, and even learn more about the other teachers through patient questioning. It would help their investigations a lot more if he could cross her off the list of suspects, and find the hints that could narrow their search.

He agreed to meet her tomorrow near the water fountain and watched her as she did a victory bounce before becoming flustered again. She glanced at her watch then, gave out a yell and started to gather everything together in a rush, stumbling over herself and her words, talking about the doors needing locking and a list of items needed for the festival. He told her not to worry, and watched as a blush turned her pink cheeks even pinker. Running into the door, she excused herself yet again for her clumsiness then left.

He kept his smile for a few moments more just in case she came rushing in to retrieve something forgotten. The smile faded as he easily slipped back into his Abyssinian mask.

"Come out," he said, the words cracking in still air.

Sliding into view, Hidaka Ken, his hair worn long in his face, and the glint of something testing the line between sanity and insanity glinting in his eyes. He grinned at Aya, looking ready to spring from his position against the wall.

"I'm sorry to intrude," he said, giving a shrug.

Aya gritted his teeth and stood up, sweeping his papers into his briefcase with his hand and snapping it shut. He saw the frown Ken gave him, but ignored it as he made sure everything as secured before heading for the door.

"We can't talk here," Aya said, flicking the lights out and securing the door, and heading down the long hallway. "Outside, the gazebo in the pond."

"I don't think. . ."

Aya quickened his stride not wanting to hear what Ken thought, and making sure to lock the other doors and giving Ken more then enough time to reach the gazebo. He secured the outside doors, even though he knew how easily to open them were even without the keys, then went to his car, tossing his briefcase into the back seat. If he was lucky, Ken would not be in the mood to fight, but he didn't think so. Ken was always in the mood to fight these days.

Yohji was lost in finding love. Ken was lost to the killing rage. Omi was lost to Takatori. What was he lost to? The dream of Weiss had been shattered years ago. He was just too stubborn to end his slumber.

The air was getting chilly, the leaves turning colors and fading overhead. Aya stopped just inside the arched entrance, watching Ken as the brunet fidgeted. The silence spread around them, even the rustling of the leaves and the whisper of the wind stilling. At one time, Ken had tried to prove himself worthy of being more then just Aya's co-worker. He had never recovered completely from the rejection.

Even his words held the edge of past frustrations to Aya's throat. His bland reply to the threat of the Crashers made the brunet glare and his voice get louder. Aya glared back at Ken, not raising his voice, struggling again between concern and anger. He never asked Ken to intrude on this investigation; like Yohji, the brunet was given a totally different task and was only following Aya's orders out of some sort of misguided friendship.

Or was it his long harbored feelings, as misplaced as they were? Aya watched Ken, barely hearing his words and feeling his frustrations grow. Ken should not follow him out of a misguided love. Aya knew that he was no longer capable of feeling anything but anger and rage and an icy control.

This conversation was wasting their time and placing Ken in danger since their enemy already knew who Aya was. It would be easily enough for their enemies to figure out that Ken was Weiss too if they kept standing outside talking about Kritiker business. He tried to say that to Ken, but the brunet kept on blathering about Aya's real reasons for not leaving the Academy. Aya ground his teeth, not wanting this conversation in the middle of hostile territory. He snapped a fist towards Ken's jaw to get him to shut up, but Ken was faster, catching his hand in mid-strike.

"Do you. . ." Ken panted, his hand closing tightly around Aya's fist. "Intend to leave Weiss?"

"I don't know," he replied, quietly. The wind whistled past them, Aya stepping up to Ken, his left hand sinking into Ken's gut. Turning his back on the bent over brunet, he added, "The night air is bad for your health."

He heard the hissed in swear from Ken's lips and could feel the glare boring into his back, but he continued walking. He let Ken yell at him and kept walking, not replying to the words that were too close to his own thoughts. Weiss was no longer what they were supposed to be. Weiss were nothing more than tools to be used and tossed away by Takatori's greed. Weiss no longer fought for justice. To be Weiss, they had to leave their orders and show what it meant to wear the cross of sins.

A cross that Aya could feel even now, digging into his shoulders as he walked to his car. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked up at the sky tracing the consolations among the stars, trying to remember how it felt when he was young, his family alive, and his future was promising to be one of normalcy.

He sighed, letting his gaze drop as he let go of that fantasy. He chose his path, chose his sins, and chose his cross. If he were a normal person, he would have found a different way to make money and a different way to get revenge on Takatori. That he went into killing for a living only meant that he had a taste for it long before he took the path to Weiss.

His musings took him to the parking lot where he saw his car still sitting where he left it. Years of caution slowed his steps, as he looked the area over, noting the shadows and the lit areas. He stopped, a frown marring his features when he realized that the parking lot appeared brighter than it normally was at that time of night. He crouched instinctively among the shadows, trying to determine where the extra light was coming from. The school itself was dark and quirt. However, the stadium beyond it was lit up as if for a game.

Thinking furiously behind his blank expression, Aya walked into the lit parking lot, giving the impression of a teacher who had to take one last walk before going home and going to bed. He automatically checked his car even as he unlocked it, tensing because if someone were to attack, this would be the time for it, with his back bent and his attention focused on his door. Nothing happened and he got into his car relieved. He drove out, heading down the road until the bulk of the school was lost in the gloom. Checking for anyone following, he pulled off to the side and turned his car off. The stadium was a short distance away, close enough to walk to, though not close enough to hear exactly what was going on.

Aya got out of his car, looking around at the tangle of trees and the slicked blackness of the road. With sensitive fingers, he felt along the passenger side seat and found the small switch that opened the hidden compartment in the back seat. From that, he took out by feel his real work clothing. He changed quickly then hefted his sword, pausing a moment to bring the hilt to his forehead, taking a deep breath and letting it go. Eyes opening, he shut his car door, locking it, then he turned on his heel and stalked into the shadows, the white of his costume dull in the gloom.

As he got closer to the stadium he could hear three familiar voices rise and fall around the sounds of battle. The one voice he heard caused him to curse under his breath, easing through the shadows and into the entrance. The door was wide open and if anyone was paying attention, he would have been spotted as he lingered under the archway.

Sena was fighting with two members of the Class Z project and losing badly. Aya winced as he watched the boy get tossed around by the two people, purple eyes narrowed as he studied Sena's two attackers' movements. They were not in the same league as any member of Schwarz, even though Weiss information had found that they – like other members of Class Z – were genetically enhanced. Watching a moment longer, nodding in silent approval that Sena was still not giving up despite his beating, Aya decided it was their lack of focus that made them pathetic.

He stepped out into the stadium, drawing his blade and moving in a silent rush towards the girl and Sena, his katana cutting the air as he brought it low and hard. She went down, screaming at the bite of his blade, Sena falling in the other direction. He spared the youth a glance, noting that he was still breathing and coherent despite the pain. Turning, Aya faced the male, holding his blade at the ready and feeling the rush of the fight filling him. His opponent was little more then a boy, so smug in his special skills and the victory against Aya a few weeks back. Aya did not have the heart to tell him that he fought better and stronger people then a poor genetic copy.

They exchanged words, Aya dodging the first attack easily, jumping the second attack. After fighting against the Berserker, the child's moves were just that – childish, crude and lacking rhythm. Aya easily moved from blows that would have crushed him, waiting for an opening. Then, with a yell of 'Shi-ne', the boy came all out, leaving his torso open for attack. Aya stepped to the side, turned his blade and easily slide it along the boy's unguarded belly. Only the boy's ribs prevented the katana from cutting his body in two.

He watched the boy collapsed, wiping his blade clean. Aya slid it back into its sheath then moved to examine Sena, bending over him to check his pulse. He felt a whisper of movement behind him and spun around, whipping out his tanto and sliced thin air. A hand encased in black leather caught his wrist, twisting it back and a heavily built body pressed closer to him, wolf yellow eyes glittering in amusement.

"Jumpy, are you?"

Aya cursed and yanked at his hand, glancing down to make sure that Sena did not see this. He was pulled forward against his stockier opponent, the man's eyes glittering in amusement and hunger. His pale tongue briefly touched Aya's lips then he was released, nearly stumbling over Sena's form.

"Take care of your friend. We'll talk later." Farfarello faded into the night.


End file.
